Nine.
Arthur lay on his side, his eyes refusing to close as Lancelot snored next to him. Early light had begun to seep through the windows, and he hadn't slept a wink the entire night. Or not a full sleep at any rate. Every time he had managed to doze off, dreams of Ligeia and Lancelot mixed in his head – sometimes they got along with one another, other times they were snarling at each other.
One dream featured Lancelot ripping the combs from the lady's head and cutting his own wrists with their sharp edges.
His skin prickled with unease and he thought back again to the tall white haired man he had found hitting Ligeia. Lucius Falco. His name had been peppered all over Marcus' ledgers, from money lending to supply providing. The man had even sent over a casket of eggs that had been recorded.
What was it about him? Why was every single thing the man had done or given the family listed? Arthur pondered it a few more moments, then sighed in frustration. The answer was there. He just couldn't see it. None of the other things given to Marcus were listed in such detail. Marcus obviously had wanted to remember everything that Falco had given him or loaned him. Why?
Did Marcus have something on Falco?
Hrm. That was a notion to think on. He promised himself he would visit the Falco estate himself that day, and turned over to find Lancelot staring at him, eyes half lidded, expression one of annoyance.
"Did you sleep at all?" he said, rubbing one eye with a curled up hand, "or did you twist and brood all night?"
Arthur made a little hmming sound, and tried a smile. "Um, yes?"
"Which, Arthur?" Lancelot asked, a yawn contorting his features. "You will get sick if you're not resting."
"For god's sake, Lancelot, leave off," Arthur replied finally, his inner self ready to punch and kiss the other man at the same time. "You have a truly strange knack of making me angry and touched at the same time. It's highly abrasive."
Lancelot put on his best innocent look, eyes wide and lip stuck out. "I'm not sure what you're referring to," he said, all eyelashes and dark curls, "but that's hurtful, Arthur."
Arthur groaned, and rolled away from the other man, laughing softly. "You wouldn't have me any other way and you know it," he joked, sitting up and scrubbing a hand through his hair.
Lancelot snorted, and sat up as well, scooting up behind Arthur, his lean arms snaking around Arthur's waist. He rested his forehead on Arthur's shoulder, breathing slowly, then began to trail light lips over the other man's scapula, up the muscle that attached neck and shoulder, finishing on his jawline, which he licked gently.
"I would have you content," he murmured into Arthur's ear, nipping at the lobe softly. "I would have you happy. I would have the grooves between your eyes gone. I would have the grey in your hair be from age and not from worry."
Arthur shivered at the touch, and leant back, tilted his head and placed his hands over the ones resting on his belly.
"What grey hair?" he asked.
The laugh that came out of Lancelot shook them both, and Arthur squeezed the long fingers of the other man, threading his between them.
"I've thought of something," he said after a few moments of no sound but lips meeting, his breath coming a tad harshly. Lancelot sighed, then unwrapped his arms from Arthur's chest.
"Yes? I'm sure you're aching to tell me," he groused, moving to pull on his trousers, then flopped back onto the bed. He crossed his arms behind his head, and eyed Arthur expectantly. "…and?"
Arthur flapped a hand at him, then rose off the bed, dressing and talking at the same time. "Those ledger books contain a lot of information," he said, his voice muffled as he pulled his tunic over his head, "but no more information than a normal household contains. Except for one name."
"Falco," Lancelot interjected, and Arthur's head appeared from his collar, his hair sticking up in crazy whorls. "Yes," he agreed, tugging on his leather pants. Lancelot groaned inwardly; the trousers meant that Arthur was preparing to ride out. "What reason would you think Marcus would have to log every single thing that Falco ever did for him? I found entries listing one bottle of wine, or a basket of eggs. I find that … intriguing. And it says one thing to me."
"And that is?" Lancelot asked, not liking where the conversation was going. Arthur strode to his wardrobe and opened the thing, pulling out leather over tunic and riding gloves.
"Why would you keep track of gifts? Unless they were bribes of some kind?"
"You think Marcus had something on Falco?" Lancelot queried, sitting up again. He stood, and found his own tunic. As he dressed, Arthur frowned, not wanting to drag the other man on a wild goose chase if he could help it.
"I'm thinking yes, perhaps. And he kept a record of all of it so he could make sure Falco never forgot. It must have been something big for him to bother with doing it for, oh, fifteen years or so," Arthur finished, flipping back through the large books. "That's a long time for bribes. Or gifts."
He toed on his boots, and gathered up the books, opening his door. "Either way, I'm going to see if I can't get some answers out of him." He stepped out of his rooms, waiting until Lancelot followed before shutting the door.
"You don't have to," he started, then shut his mouth when Lancelot pressed his lips hard to Arthur's briefly. "Don't even start," Lancelot echoed Arthur's comment of the night before.
Arthur merely stared after Lancelot, who was already walking towards the kitchen. He shook his head, then trailed after the other man.
They ate quickly, Arthur telling Jols their plan so he could inform Gawain and Galahad what they were doing, then exited the house, the sun finally rising.
"Mithras knows only you could get me out of bed this early, Arthur," Lancelot commented as they readied their horses. "Especially without an order." He jumped in with more as Arthur made to interject. "And don't go getting all guilt ridden on me. I'm here because I want to be here. I'm by your side, where I'm supposed to be," he finished, leading his horse out to the yard, then mounted up. "No protecting. No secrets. I'm a free man. I choose my own fate." His dark eyes met Arthur's emerald ones, daring the other man to deny him.
Arthur just placed a hand on Lancelot's knee, then moved to his own mount. "Let's go get answers, then," he said, sliding the ledger books into his saddlebags. He hoped Lancelot hadn't noticed his cracking voice, or that he had to swallow hard a few times over his swollen throat.
The Falco homestead was sprawling. Arthur and Lancelot rode through a large olive tree orchard and a cattle pen, from which the sound of cows being milked could be heard. People were milling about, servants doing their morning duties when the two men reined up in the main yard.
A young man bustled toward them, and took their reins as they dismounted. "Lord Castus," he said, bowing slightly as he handed their horses off to another man, who lead them off after Arthur had taken what he needed from his saddlebags. "I'm Graccus, the Falco's head of household. I was told to expect you."
"Were you now?" Lancelot sniped, but shut up when Arthur shot a glare his way. "Then I take it the family is ready to see us?" Arthur asked.
Graccus smiled, but Arthur saw it didn't reach his ice blue eyes. "Follow me, please."
The servant swirled away toward the house, and the two men followed, Arthur glancing at Lancelot once before saying under his breath, "I'm talking. You play nice."
"Aye, commander," Lancelot answered, and Arthur resisted the urge to kick him as they entered the home.
The tall roman man they had seen at Ligeia's the previous day was waiting in the foyer, dressed in regal senate attire, his purple sash of rank standing out starkly against the whiteness of his toga. Arthur felt suddenly underdressed in his leather riding gear and simple boots, but he ignored it. He knew the man had appeared this way on purpose to intimidate. Arthur refused to allow it to affect his mood or judgement.
"Senator Falco," he said by way of greeting. The man nodded tightly, then gestured for them to follow him. They made their way into the back of the house, and Falco shut the door behind them as they settled themselves in what appeared to be the study.
"Castus," he said with no preamble, "I know our meeting yesterday was less than – ideal." Lancelot's hand on his arm restrained Arthur from making a nasty comment, and he ground his teeth together in order to be polite. "Yes, well, as you said, it was your business. Nevertheless, I don't like seeing any helpless person struck. But be that as it may," he went on before Falco could say something he'd regret, "I have been studying Marcus Orona's ledger books," he patted them, "and your name has popped up very frequently. It's interesting, because all of the other entries are mostly large things, like lumber trades or money loans. Yet he listed almost everything he received from you, including things like a single basket of eggs, or a delivery of flowers. Can you explain this?"
"What is your reasoning behind examining these so closely?" Falco asked, trying to change the subject subtlely. Lancelot smirked; the man was no master at hiding things. His color had reddened when Arthur had begun speaking.
"I'm helping the lady Ligeia determine what happened to her barn," Arthur replied, his face carefully blank. "Why do you ask?"
"I just wonder why an ex legionaire and his cohorts are so interested in the personal business of a well to do widow," Falco said, keeping his voice calm. Lancelot bristled at the man calling Arthur a legionaire, but Arthur squeezed his forearm, hard, and walked a little closer to the roman.
"Ex calvary, actually," Arthur corrected, and went on, "and I'm always interested in helping a family in need. Especially one that's been kind to me."
"Yes," Falco sneered, "Ligeia can be kind. When she wants something. That whole family was – is highly adept at asking for 'help.'"
It was Arthur's turn to bristle, and he stepped up to the other man, his height about the same as Falco's. They stared into each others eyes, Arthur finally breaking the contest.
"I don't know why you're so angry at the Orona family," he said quietly, dangerously, "but rest assured that anyone under my protection stays that way. I will get to the bottom of this."
He turned, and made to leave the room, Lancelot on his heels.
"Castus," the roman called. Arthur turned, his jaw muscles jumping, his knuckles white on the ledger books. "Yes, Senator?"
"I have no secrets in this community. Not now, at any rate." He smiled, a baring of white teeth, which made Arthur want to wipe the smarmy look off his face. "You know about Marcus' – disdain for his daughter, Olivia?"
Arthur nodded tightly. "It's been said he wasn't fond of the child."
"For a good reason. She wasn't his."
Arthur's lips flapped, and he tried to think of a reply. "What?" was the best he could do for the moment.
Falco laughed bitterly. "Like I said, I know the Orona family quite well. I know what they're capable of. And I know why Marcus kept a list of everything I ever did for him. Think about it, and you may actually figure it out for yourself. But that doesn't mean I had anything to do with her fire That was an unfortunate – accident."
He swept past the two men, and went deeper into the house, his toga dusting the floor.
Arthur's eyes closed, and he dropped his head. "Damn," he whispered. Lancelot took his arm, and walked him to the front door. They exited the house, where the silent yard man was waiting with their mounts.
They got on the animals, and rode through the cattle and the orchard again, not saying anything until they reached the dusty road that lead back toward Arthur's home.
"No wonder she befriended me," Arthur said, his voice full of hurt, tiny and still. "She needed someone to look after her daughter. Falco was bribing her husband to keep quiet. But why?"
Lancelot sawed on his reins when Arthur stopped, and rode back to the other man. "You couldn't have known," he said gently, "you were just being yourself. And do you blame her? A single man, with a home, obviously kind and available? What would you do if your source of protection suddenly died?"
Arthur's face was a mask of shock, and Lancelot sighed inwardly again at his friend's innocence. Arthur's belief in the inherent goodness of people had gotten him hurt too many times for Lancelot to count, and he was tired of seeing it happen. But he also knew that the quality was ingrained in Arthur, and he wouldn't be Arthur without it. As much as Lancelot didn't like the results when someone betrayed the other man's belief in them, he knew it would keep on happening. People were just that way, even if he was the only one to see it.
Arthur's skin suddenly blanched white, and he raised his eyes to meet Lancelot's.
"Falco is her father."
"Yes, Arthur," Lancelot nodded wearily. "That would be the reason for him to give things to Marcus. And a reason for Marcus to keep inventory of what he was given. So Falco would never forget – and always owe Marcus for keeping silent."
Arthur's horse wheeled about, feeling it's rider's nervous manner. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, chewing on it, his hands clutching the reins tightly. "So did he have Marcus killed? Did he start the fire – to get back at her? Something's not adding up here. It's too convenient that all these things have happened together."
Lancelot agreed, but couldn't think of a thing to say to make Arthur feel better. "I'm not sure, Arthur. But we can't figure it out sitting out here. The damn rains are coming back," he pointed to the large thunderheads ringing the horizon, "and we can think better when we're not soaked."
Arthur shook his head absently, and started his horse trotting back up the road. Lancelot silently thanked the gods, and followed, lightning beginning to show in the sky.
"I've got to speak with her," Arthur said suddenly, and turned his horse back, speeding up to a canter. He passed Lancelot, who cursed, and chased after him.
"Fuck – Arthur, stop! Not now, not when you're angry. It won't do either of you any good!"
His horse raced after Arthur's, who amped up to a full gallop.
They were both breathing heavily when they rode into the yard at Ligeia's home, Arthur sliding from his horse before the poor animal was barely at a stop.
Lancelot leapt from his mount as well, catching Arthur up and pulling at his arm. "Arthur, please, don't do this. You're not in the right frame of mind – besides, we can go back to the house and figure out what to do together. Surprising the lady won't do any good – she may not want to talk to you in your state."
Arthur shook his arm free, and kept striding toward the front door, which was flung open, Ligeia running out onto the steps. "Arthur," she said surprisedly, "what are you doing here?"
"Did you want someone to protect you from Falco's anger? Did you want a new father for your child? Or did you just find it amusing to befriend me because you were bored without your husband?"
Arthur stalked up to her, and Lancelot cursed again. His friend hardly ever lost his temper – but betrayal, in Arthur's mind, was a way to make sure that happened.
To her credit, the lady did not shy away from Arthur's physical proximity. Rather, she rose to her full height, which wasn't much shorter than Arthur's, and met his angry gaze.
"I made a mistake when I was young, and I've been paying for it for fourteen years. My daughter was deprived of a real father because of my actions. There was no way I could have known Marcus would take advantage of Falco the way he did. The moment he found out I was pregnant, he changed. He went from the man I married to a petty, jealous, unforgiving bastard, who was willing to do anything to get what he wanted out of the 'situation.'"
Arthur snorted. "And you thought I could fill the hole in Olivia's life. You befriended me because you wanted someone to raise her – and you weren't planning on telling me."
"Arthur, I befriended you because I thought you needed it. It was only after Olivia began to care for you that I got the idea that you would be good for us. I've been taken advantage of by man after man my whole life," she said calmly, turning at last from Arthur's side, moving down to the yard. Lancelot watched her, this turn of events not exactly what he had been expecting.
Arthur followed, his face stark and empty beneath his stubble. He heard a roaring in his ears, and could do nothing but trail after Ligeia, helpless to turn away, even though he didn't want to listen anymore.
"I made the mistake of falling in love with Lucius when I was already married," she kept on, "and sleeping with him was easy. Watching him spurn me the second he had had me was a lot harder. I was going to leave Marcus if that's what he wanted," she continued, "but he didn't want his friends or the other members of the community to see him as cuckolded. So he decided to tell everyone that Falco had raped me, and that way sully his name in the senate, unless Falco 'helped' us."
"And you did nothing? You stayed with him? Despite the knowledge that your husband was milking Falco out of everything he could? You let your husband bribe a senator for fourteen years!"
Lancelot watched the drama unfold, Arthur's sense of decorum unraveling quickly. He crossed his arms, and stood by one of the small fountains in the front yard as Arthur stormed after Ligeia.
"You know nothing of the ways of husbands and wives, do you? A batchelor, a military man…how dare you even try to condemn me? What gives you the right?"
The lady turned and faced Arthur, her tone sounding calm, but her words cutting. Arthur's body tremored as if he'd been hit. His betrayal by Rome was furthest from his mind now – he was shocked to the core that Marcus had been okay with corrupting a senator, and that Ligeia had known. And that Falco had agreed to it!
All he understood was that he had been lied to, from the start. Ligeia had known her husband was bribing Falco, and yet hadn't said a word to Arthur when he asked about the ledger books. He felt a trampled upon, blind fool.
"I'm concerned for your daughter, Lady. You were the one who befriended me, after all. I didn't seek you out."
"I did. And I shouldn't have. Had I known you would be just like the rest of them, I wouldn't have bothered. Take your baggage and go home, Arthur Castus. Take your loyalties with their strings attached and your men and your spare horses and leave me be!"
Ligeia yanked the Sarmatian combs from her hair, spilling the length of it down her back, and chucked them at Arthur. They fell into the dirt, and she spun, running up the steps back into her home.
The door slammed, and silence decended upon them. Chickens bocked and noise was heard from the backside of the house, but Arthur didn't move.
Lancelot walked slowly to the combs, picking them up off of the ground, and put them in Arthur's hand. He led the other man to their horses, and they both mounted, Arthur's skin a greenish pallor, his hands tight on the reins.
Lancelot clucked to his mount, and tried to get Arthur to look him in the eye, but the other man just rode out, this time at a normal pace.
About halfway home, Arthur jerked at his reins suddenly, and threw himself off his horse. He ran for the thin treeline on the side of the road, but Lancelot stayed mounted, grabbing Arthur's horse's bridle so the animal wouldn't wander off.
Arthur came back a few minutes later, his gait stiff and wiping his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot.
He took the reins from Lancelot and rode on toward his home in the gathering dark from the coming storm.
end nine